Van Diemen's Land

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I'm a quiet man.

A quiet man dreaming on nothing.

but whiskey in my blood,

a song in my ear

a woman in my bed.

Wasn't the Devil in you

when you brought me here?

Rain is coming.

The bottom of the world. A lovely prison.

Overseer:
Alright. Come on, Dalton.

Come on.

Give me your hand. Come here.

OK, in you get.

Go on.

That's it. Go on.

Come on, lads.

Overseer:
There's freedom

in work, lads. Freedom in work.

Sooner you get this forest cut down,

the sooner we can go home.

Great ships are built

on the shoulders of you and l.

Great ships.

Mathers!

Got no tongue in your head today?

Eh? Surely not.

Your man Mathers

has found himself homesick this day

and mute it has made him.

Poor lad.

He misses his Scottish homeland.

He'd rather be there

than with the likes of you.

One...two...three.

If this one sinks,

there'll be some f***ing language.

Overseer:
It was some meal

I was treated to last night.

Soup, baked bread...

..mutton.

The likes I cannot recall

since I left the homeland.

I was in no need

of my good friend the potato.

But he poured forth.

MAN:
I wish myself deaf.

He yaps more than a dog

with three heads.

But I did manage to...

..smuggle a little something to...

There's not much, but...

Well, it'll go wonderfully

with your bread there.

It's there if anyone wants it.

What are you smiling at now,

Bodenham?

No law against smiling.

Not yet, young Thomas.

Not yet.

Where's that mongrel sailor - Greenhill?

Greenhill, eh? Where is he?

Where is he? Eh?

You'll all feel the taste of it

if he's not found this minute.

Arggh!

Greenhill:
There's not a boat to be

seen on the harbour. Now's our chance.

- Help! Help!

- Shut him up!

You took your bleeding time.

If I had to listen to one more word...

This is to remove your tongue

if you make noise with it. Understand?

Take his clothes. Take his clothes!

Keep f***ing still!

- Greenhill:
Pass the coat.

- Get off me!

Get off me!

Come on. Come on! Let's go!

Let's go!

Greenhill:
Come on!

Where will you go?

There's nothing out there.

No! No!

Fat...f***ing...

Dalton:
You hit him one more time...

..one more time, and I swear to f***

we leave you here with him!

Grab everything! Quickly!

Greenhill:
There'll be supplies

on the ship when we get there.

We make our move at dusk.

Dalton:
Run!

Ah, Christ.

Come on.

What? Are they shooting each other?

Shh.

- We can't stay here.

- Cant go back now.

I can't move

Quiet.

We head east.

If you don't want a noose

around your neck, follow me.

Eight men in this dark wood.

Far from God's eyes.

- I'm bleeding cold.

- Be quiet.

I need a fire.

We can't, you nikey.

I need the warm!

- Punch that c*nt, Mathers.

- You f***ing try it.

Ohh. The wee lad wants to be

a little bit of a fighter, does he?

You're all talk, old man.

You're the one f***ing talking.

Why don't you just shut your mouth?

You'll be talking

when you're left behind.

Oh, why don't you go to f***ing sleep?

We're all f***ing cold.

You alright?

Fine.

and yourself?

Enjoying the freedom.

- What are they saying?

- I don't know.

Eh? You're f***ing Irish.

Go to f***ing sleep.

Do you trust that sailor Greenhill?

I don't trust you.

I didn't know she was your mother.

We only have flour and meat

to last a few days.

We'll hunt.

Hunt what?

There's nothing out there.

Ghosts.

There's a distant scream inside of me.

It's not angry, it's just screaming.

Pearce.

Pearce.

Wake up.

Wake up, Pearce.

What?

Some soldiers last night?

Any soldiers?

Soldiers?

Any soldiers last night?

Five or six.

Told them we were headed

in the other direction.

Good. Come on.

Mathers:
You might not see it in me,

but I'm quite the ladies' man

in Hobart Town.

Dalton:
Are you just?

When you consider

the odds stacked against us.

Not one complaint, I'll have you know.

Dalton:
Is that right?

I've found, in my time,

that rubbing the flesh above the hole

has a powerful effect on all women

and brings a strong wetness

like an ocean.

Useless English bastard.

What did you f***ing say?

You alright?

Bleeding Irish scum.

Cooee!

- Quiet!

Where to now, Captain?

At least we'll never be far

from the harbour.

Little Brown.

You right, Ned?

Is it cold?

Aye, it's f***ing cold.

Bodenham:
Little Brown!

Swear to Christ!

Hey! You leave him be there!

I won't be hanged

on the account of an old lag.

Swimming, is it, lads?

Are you coming in, William?

Look out, Dalton! There's

a great big snake in front of you!

Don't you worry about this one!

It's the wee little fella back there

that concerns me!

He may be small

but his bite is dangerous.

Kennerly:
In my fair opinion, lads,

this spring is even better

than the last.

Dalton:
That is the very truth itself,

William Kennerly!

It is a fine spring!

And better than the last, eh, Pearce?

Aye, Mr Dalton,

and...even...better

than the one before that!

Bodenham:
You bog trotters

are all mad.

Kennerly:
Oh!

Jesus' mother, Mary of God. Joseph.

All the heavenly host.

F*** the c*nt of it.

Upon my soul, lads,

what a beautiful day!

The sun is shining!

We have our liberty!

Ah! Christ, what a land this is!

Hey! Kennerly!

Free Ireland! Free Ireland!

Kennerly:
I'm right behind you!

Dalton:
Use your muscles, man!

Use your muscles!

Kennerly:
And the door

would fling open,

and there she was, standing there

with her wee little dugs

swinging back and forth like a...

Dalton:
Don't say it.

Mathers:
I've heard it too often and in

too great a detail for it to be false.

No, it can't be.

What's so funny?

It's nothing.

So, every morning without fail,

she'd make me rub her cold legs

and she would sing to me softly

about the sea.

But, by God, wouldn't she fart on me

when I was down there.

A case of the six o'clock farts

would send my eyes burning.

You're standing there

with this great big f***ing arse.

Christ almighty!

Them were farts you could

smell through your ears.

- What the hell are you talking about?

- Women, lad.

If they didn't have c*nts,

you'd throw stones at them.

What?

Oh, we were just relating

as to what the two of you

were doing in the bushes.

We were getting wood for the fire.

- Do you think it funny?

- Aye.

It has humour.

One question, Robert.

Is it true that Travers here

was a ticket-of-leave man

before you met?

I speak for myself.

So, Robert, is it true that Travers here

was a ticket-of-leave man?

Travers:
No.

I had no ticket of leave.

I heard you had land.

And sheep to tend.

Is that true?

Oh, I had a lease of land

promised to me, yeah.

But time... It takes time...

Here you are, huh? All the land

you could possibly desire.

You must have been quite a catch,

Mr Greenhill.

Come on. Come on, Ned.

I'll guide you through it.

Come on. Come on, Ned.

You're coming with us.

Yeah. You're coming with us.

You're coming with us.

Bodenham:
Leave him.

He's holding us back.

Kennerly:
Come on.

Come on, Neddy.

Come on.

Bodenham:
Just f***ing leave him!

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